


The Wallflower Life Didn't Work

by Skul



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Confused Ron Weasley, Draco Malfoy is a Good Friend, Harry Potter Needs a Hug, Harry doesn't understand, Ron Weasley is a Good Friend, Severus Snape Has a Heart, Slytherin Harry Potter, why is that not a tag
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-31
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:34:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26087272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skul/pseuds/Skul
Summary: Harry had survived living with the Dursleys simply by staying in the background. He would only come out of the background if they asked him to do something, and it was only basic chores. It would be great if he could stick in the background at this 'Hogwarts' place, too.Unfortunately, things just keep happening around him. At least his friends are here to help him through it.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 16





	1. How it Starts

Dumbledore sighed as he watched under a Disillusionment charm as the Dursleys brought the basket into their home, picking the note off and reading as the door shut.

It was a dark time in the wizarding world, but, for now, things were looking brighter. Now that the boy was his aunt's home, Albus apparated back to his house and canceled the charm. Voldemort had been defeated, for now, at the cost of two of the most exceptional people he had known. He sighed. Perhaps Lily's love was strong enough to keep her son from being killed on this night, but Albus was not willing to bet that the man would stay dead. He looked at one of the many photos he had hanging in his room and sighed. "I had hoped that there would not be another like you, Gellert, or that I would at least be able to prevent it," he said. Gellert Grindelwald was merely one of his many mistakes in his long life. Hopefully, young Harry would not make such drastic mistakes as he did.

* * *

Petunia Dursley was an average woman, and she was very proud of that. Her husband was an ordinary man, making an average salary, if not a bit more than average. She had given birth a little over a year ago, and her son was simply the most significant thing in her life. They lived in a perfectly ordinary neighborhood, where everyone was of proper heritage, and all the houses were neat and lined up. Everything was great, and she didn't have to think of that freak of a sister and her dirty husband even once. She would also go so far as to say that they were doing better than her sister ever could. 

Which is why it came as such a surprise that someone knocked on her door, rather late at night, and left a little dark baby on her doorstep with a note. Having a child of her own, Petunia wouldn't dare to abandon a baby to the frigid air. Besides, what would the neighbors think if there was a dead baby on _their_ doorstep in the morning? They would have to move immediately! So she brought the little child in, pulling the note off as she stepped inside, deciding to read it later. She set the basket on the table and looked at the baby inside it. 

It was dark and rather ugly because of the nasty scar on its face. It looked like lightning had struck it on top of the head. She pulled the blanket back and carefully looked into the diaper it was wearing and found that it was a boy. At least she didn't need to figure that much out. With no other identifying factors, she turned to the note and read it. 

_Dear Petunia,_

_I regret to inform you of this through a simple note, but your sister and her husband are dead._

Petunia snorted, ignoring the small pang in her heart. It didn't hurt her heart too much that the blasted freak and her husband were dead. She kept reading the letter. 

_There is a terrible man in the wizarding world, who is trying to enslave the muggle world and rule it. This man is the one who killed your sister. However, when it occurred, your sister wrapped her love around her son in an encompassing blanket of magic, causing the spell he was going to use to kill young Harry to bounce back and kill the man. I used her love and magic to create a boundary around your home to keep you and their son safe. It's based on blood and love, so I must ask that you love the babe as if he were your own. I am sorry you had to find out in such a way, but there was no other choice. Please, raise him well._

_Best Regards,_

_Dumbledore_

The small pang rapidly grew into a burning inferno, fury filling her up like she was a cup, and it was water. How _dare_ they assume she would want the little brat! He was probably just as freakish as her sister and husband were! She slammed the note down on the counter and let out an irritated sigh. Love and magic. What rubbish, love wasn't magic, and how could the man have used such _magic_ when she had no love for the woman who had died?

The baby whimpered and shifted in his sleep, not knowing of the glare she was giving him. She pulled down a wine bottle and a glass and stared at it for a moment, trying to decide whether she should drink it. _Bugger it,_ she thought and poured a healthy amount into her glass. She should probably let her husband know about it, and so she went to wake him up. She stepped to their bedroom and pushed the door open, careful not to swing it open wildly. It wouldn't do to frighten her dear husband like that. 

"Dear, I've something to show you," she said quietly, leaning over and shaking him by the shoulder. He grumbled in his sleep and rolled over. She rolled her eyes at him and decided to try a little harder. After all, he would probably throw a fit if he realized that there was another baby in the house without letting him know.

"Vernon. Honey, wake up!" That woke him up. With a snort, he rolled back over and sat up, looking at her with bleary eyes.

"Sweetheart, what is it? You know I have work in the morning," he grumbled as he wiped his eyes. She smiled. He was such a handsome and ordinary man, and she was happy to be such a great man's wife.

"My sister left her son on our doorstep," she said, and he stared at her for a moment. She watched him process the news before he chuckled and shook his head. "You must be joking. I thought you said those freaks weren't ever going to mess with us again. Surely this is a joke," He stood up and headed to the kitchen, pausing when he heard a baby cry. 

"Why have you got Dudders in the kitchen, dear?" He asked nervously, quickly making his way to the kitchen, stopping when he saw the baby and the basket. He stepped closer and looked over into the basket and swore, turning to look at his wife. 

"He stinks," he said, "clean him up, and I'll see if there's anywhere, we can put him for the night." Petunia scowled at the thought of having to deal with another baby beside her precious Dudders, but walked over to do so anyway, grabbing the to-go nappy bag she always kept near the door. Couldn't have the little brat waking Dudley up, after all. She pulled the nappy off of him and frowned at the mess, grabbing a wipe and cleaning him off. The stupid brat just kept crying no matter how much she shushed and talked to him as she slipped the nappy on, and she finally had enough. 

"Shut up, you stupid little brat!" She snapped, voice rising as she shook the baby, but not much. Once she finally made the little brat quiet, she set him down, satisfied. She gasped and put her hand over her mouth, hoping Dudley didn't wake at her being so loud. The brat shuddered and shut his mouth as though something was wrong, but Petunia ignored it, picking him up and putting him back in the basket. She walked into the sitting room and saw that Vernon was taking a few dirty things out of the old cupboard that they didn't use much. It was the perfect little spot to keep the little cretin. Vernon nodded, and she went to grab the basket. She could grab Dudley's old cot tomorrow and set it up then. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know if these chapters seem too short. It's my first time writing a story like this, and I would like to attempt to make them a decent length.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry does his chores, stays in the cupboard, and dreams of a different life, where the things he could do were normal.

Putting the dried dishes into the cabinet, Harry listened to Dudley laugh obnoxiously over a new game he had gotten. It had been a long day, and he hadn't even cooked lunch, yet. Vernon had acted quite angry that Harry had cooked the bacon wrong, although it had been the same as usual, and yelled at him as he was setting the table. Petunia had just stood by and glared at him while Dudley laughed and laughed and laughed. 

Thankfully, Vernon left soon after, and Petunia wasn't keen on sticking around and watching him clean. Dudley was quickly tired of mocking him when he wouldn't respond and left to play with some random gadget or doodad that the Dursleys had recently bought him. Harry hated having to deal with all three while doing chores at the same time. He'd rather be stuck in the cupboard with the spiders that clung to the corners of the small space. At least he could do the dishes in silence. 

The dishes, thankfully, didn't take long to do at all. He had managed it quickly enough and was soon plucking weeds out of the garden. It had to be perfect, or Petunia would wack his hands with a ruler. Sometimes she would even do it over his back as if it didn't hurt enough from being crouched over and cleaning all day. And so, he meticulously ripped out any possible weeds growing in the grass. Sometimes, he even talked to the few grass snakes that would crawl over. 

He knew it was a freak thing, but he just couldn't help it. They were the only ones who didn't say he was bad or deserved what he was forced to do. Their recommendations were always violent or deadly, so Harry never asked for advice from them. There was one, in particular, that always came during the summer and listened to him. 

If he had to translate the name in English, and it wasn't even a name, it would probably be something like _Grass-fire-strike,_ or something like that. Harry asked him once why it was like that, and the snake had said something along the lines of _'we snakes do not need something like_ names _to tell each other apart. The scent is enough for us.'_ Harry didn't question him after that. He knew that the snake was a common viper and that a bite would hurt someone but not kill them. He had allowed Harry to give him a name, something that could vaguely translate into the odd hissing language that snakes spoke. 

It had taken time, and the help of the library computer whenever he had to go look something up for Dudley, but he settled on a name. He'd initially started by looking up names for snakes and trying those names, but they simply did not translate. After looking up some things that fit the description of the snake, he decided on Severus. It meant 'Severe' in Latin and _'he who is strong'_ in snake words. Severus rather liked being called that. 

Sadly it didn't seem like Severus would be coming today, so Harry quickly finished in the garden and went inside and cooked lunch. 

The front door opened and Harry sighed, quickly putting aside the sandwiches he had just made. He had to make sure he looked as presentable as possible, or Petunia would probably stick him in the doghouse again. or maybe the closet, if she was feeling vicious enough. 

He had just finished wiping his hands and the countertop off when Petunia stepped in with one of the neighbors, Mrs. Figg if he remembered right. She had babysat him a few times when he was too young to stay at the house alone. Petunia smiled brightly at Harry, and he smiled back as if they were a happy family, and Petunia reached over to hug him, whispering in his ear.

"You better act right, boy, or there will be _consequences,_ " she whispered into his ear, dragging her nails across his arm as she pulled away. Harry laughed and ignored the way his stomach dropped through the floor and possibly the earth. 

"Aunt Petunia! I've missed you today! Luckily, I was making lunch just as you came in," he said brightly, forcing his hands to be steady as he brought the sandwiches over to the two. "I've already had some, but you two go ahead and eat all you like. I'll be washing up the dishes I used," He grinned at Mrs. Figg, who smiled at him and shook her head. His blood turned to ice when she did. 

"Come, now, Harry. Sit down and have a chat with us! It's been so long since we've talked to one another. How have you been, lately?" She asked, not seeing the way Petunia shook her head at him from behind her. 

"I've been doing great, lately. Just the other day I played some games with Dudley," Harry hunting, but she didn't need to know that, "and Aunt Petunia took me out shopping the other day for clothes," he said, making it seem as if the clothes had been for him. In reality, he was there as a coat rack while she tried on different outfits and bought whatever caught her eye. It was a perfectly normal day, and Petunia nodded and smiled when Mrs. Figg focused on her again. Harry took the chance and quickly slipped away, not wanting Petunia to have any reason to punish him for something as stupid as saying the wrong word to the elderly woman. 

The two chattered while Harry finished up the dishes once more, and caught the tail end of Petunia ranting about some random thing that he must have done. 

"Oh, the boy is rotten, I tell you. The other day, he punched a mirror that wasn't working right, he said. My poor mirror shattered into pieces and he didn't even bother trying to pick it up. It was an absolute mess," she ranted, Mrs. Figg gasping and nodding at the appropriate parts. The mirror really had been acting strange, but being stuck in the cupboard for two days was much better than them seeing his freakish reflection waving when Harry hadn't been. Harry just frowned and went out to the backyard and checked the grass for any potential weeds he could have missed earlier. 

_"Lightning-hunter,"_ Harry personally thought this was an odd name, but the snake insisted that was what he smelled like, _"the sun is highest right now, what are you doing?"_ Severus asked, flicking his tongue at Harry. Harry smiled at the little viper and acted like he was pulling up weeds in case anyone saw him. 

_"She-mouse is entertaining Small-Predator-Mother,"_ Harry hissed. For the longest time, he couldn't figure out how to call people in snake language, but Severus usually knew who he was talking about since he had been around Harry so long. Mrs. Figg owned a lot of cats, and cats did like to hunt. It made sense to him that it came out as a predator mother instead of a cat owner. The snake reared back, hissing agitatedly. Harry just sat there, knowing the snake wouldn't do anything to him.

 _"She-mouse is pathetic! A prey entertaining a predator. She will be eaten if she continues to mess with those that understand the world better,"_ the snake hissed angrily. Harry wasn't quite sure what Severus meant by 'those that understand the world better,' and he likely would never know. Severus had tried explaining one time, before becoming angry with him and insisting that his understanding of the world was wasted if he couldn't understand something so simple. Harry figured it had something to do with being a freak, but he knew that Mrs. Figg couldn't possibly be like that. She would have healed her leg much quicker after it had been broken that one time. Harry hated having broken bones, and sitting there for months with one must have been annoying and painful. Harry preferred to simply make it speed up. 

_"There is nothing I can do to convince her to stop, so I shall let her consume her tail,"_ Harry loved phrases being turned into snake language because they were so interesting. What he had meant was 'she'll get what's coming to her.' Aunt Petunia was a great woman, but sometimes she was wrong. The snake hissed in a weirdly satisfying way, curling up on a rock that Harry kept just at the edge of Petunia's bushes. Taking that as a sign, Harry stood up and went inside, noting that Mrs. Figg had left at some point while he was in the back yard. Petunia sat in the sitting room, yarn and needles set up in front of her as if she were knitting a scarf. She frowned when he came inside. 

"You've finished the weeds, then," she said, gathering both needles in one hand. He nodded. Freaks didn't talk unless told to. She sighed and set her things to the side, and stood up. 

"You did rather poorly while Mrs. Figg was here. Don't worry, though. Aunt Petunia knows that freaks like you struggle with normal things," she soothed, laying a hand on his arm gently, and Harry bit his lip at the sting that hit so deeply. He had thought he had done well, but apparently not. At least Aunt Petunia was being nice today. Harry wasn't sure he could handle her being angry at the way he failed earlier. She patted his arm, and her face held a pitying look. His stomach twisted and he leaned forward, Aunt Petunia wrapping her arms around him. He couldn't see the twisted grin that she had on his face. 

"I'll keep this from Vernon just this once, dear, but you simply must start doing better. Freaks struggle to fit in, but they hide better than you do. We simply must get that freakishness under control. I'll cook dinner tonight, so go rest in your cupboard. Even though you need to work hard to stay in this house, I know you need time to rest," she said softly, quickly putting the pity back on her face. Harry let out a shaky sigh and nodded. He didn't quite believe he deserved a break, but Aunt Petunia was nice to him, even when Uncle Vernon and Dudley were not. Aunt Petunia had been the one to keep Vernon from beating him with a belt, instead, she limited it to fists and the cupboard and food rations. She said she had tried to limit it even further but Vernon had insisted that he have at least the minimal punishment.

Harry swallowed around the knot in his throat and quickly went to his cupboard, quietly listening for when Aunt Petunia would lock the door. She did, this time, and Harry pressed his face into his pillow, letting out a quiet whine. He just wished his freakishness wasn't so obvious. He wanted to be able to see it himself, so he could hide it better. It made no sense for him to even bother trying. Aunt Petunia, at least, made an effort to let him know when he made mistakes. She would even attempt to help him fix it, sometimes. He only wanted to be normal, and not have to deal with accidentally changing his hair, or the mirror, or even bringing a pan over without walking over to it. He sucked in a deep breath, because crying was a sign of weakness, and he had already let out enough complaints within his cupboard. He sat up and instead stuck the edge of his thumb in his mouth. A nasty habit for an almost teenager to have, he knew and bit down harshly. The strong taste of iron entered his mouth and he sucked it off. This was the only way he had to quietly punish himself. Uncle Vernon would do worse if he found out that Harry was in his cupboard making noise. Harry only wished he could do more. 

Harry wished his bastard parents had kept him in the car whilst they were drinking and driving because surely then he wouldn't be such a burden to the Dursleys. He ripped his thumb out of his mouth, hissing slightly at the pain, and ignored the dark thoughts trying to fill his head. He knew they would lead him down a path of nothingness and instead thought of what it would be like to be in a world full of freaks. He knew that would never happen, so he could dream of it instead. 

He pictured a happy alcohol-free family, where they could pop in and out of any store they wanted without having to take a long walk or drive. What it would be like to simply be capable of not having to focus on cooking the bacon and eggs by hand, and sitting at a table at an equal level with everyone. Waving a hand and simply pulling the weeds that way, instead of toiling in the harsh summer sun. Simply stepping out during the winter and melting the snow on the path, instead of pushing it aside while wearing thin rags that did nothing to hide him from the cold. It was a nice fantasy, he supposed if one could ignore how freakish everything was. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry's letter comes in, and he hides it for no reason.

Harry had been doing well that week. He had cooked large breakfasts, lunches, and dinners for the Dursleys, and only ate his sandwiches by the sink as per usual. Uncle Vernon had only knocked him across the head three times, and Aunt Petunia was a bit kinder than usual. Harry was incredibly grateful for it. Uncle Vernon only grunted and complained about not having milk already in a glass for him, so everything was going great. The day had been great, and Harry was excited for when they would put him in his cupboard early tonight. Harry shoved aside any thoughts to put rat poison into dinner aside and quickly cleaned the dishes. With everything cleaned, he quickly went outside and watered the garden, ensuring that each plant had just enough water to not look wilted. Aunt Petunia was usually much angrier if the plants weren't well. He intercepted the postman to the door and took the mail inside. It wouldn't do if Aunt Petunia were to see the mail just lying on the ground. 

He had just gotten the mail sorted when another letter slipped through the door slot. Harry frowned. It wasn't often that a letter was misplaced. Harry walked over and picked it up, noting his name on it. Of course, a letter would come on his eleventh birthday. If any of the Dursleys saw this, including Aunt Petunia, the whole day would sour. Harry decided to simply put it into his cupboard and into the hole in his blanket. He hadn't stitched the hole shut yet, having run out of thread when he had been stitching a hole in a pair of pants Dudley had given him. He could check the letter later that night. Putting it to the back of his mind, Harry set about cleaning Dudley's room. He had never gotten as clean as he had wanted, and it was a constant disappointment for Aunt Petunia. Dudley always managed to wreck it immediately after Harry had cleaned it. If five or ten pounds went missing during the cleaning, well, Dudley had never noticed, and Harry wasn't going to point it out. He had been saving since the hole in his mattress appeared. The Dursleys never could tell the difference in the lumps in it.

Aunt Petunia saw Dudley's clean room for once, decided that Harry had done well enough, gave him a sweet muffin, and sent him to his cupboard. Harry had been extremely thankful for the sweet muffin but had hidden it away with his freakish abilities once he was in his cupboard. He would save it for when he had been in the cupboard even longer than usual. The last time he had one was back when he complained about Dudley getting one. 

Having them forced into your mouth and down your throat until you threw them up made them an unsightly thing for Harry. The mere thought of eating one left his stomach trying to heave. Instead, it was put in the strange cup that was larger inside. Harry was positive he had caused it to happen because it occurred when he was holding the cup, and wished desperately for a way to keep extra food in his room. It had also changed again when he held it and wished for the food not to rot. He had caused enough trouble that day that Vernon saw no problem in punishing him, and Harry could only be thankful they had not discovered the strange little cup he kept hidden away. He wasn't sure what would happen if the cup broke, so he kept it carefully hidden and out of sight of the Dursleys. 

Harry tucked the cup away and pulled the letter from within the blanket. If he stayed quiet, they were more likely to pretend he wasn't there. Dudley probably didn't understand Harry existed outside of cleaning and Harry Hunting. Harry didn't mind that, though. It just meant that Harry would have no one to bother him tonight. He carefully looked over the envelope. It had fancy writing on the front and a wax seal on the back. Harry thought it might be a joke, but decided to read it anyways. 

_Mr. H. Potter,  
The Cupboard under the Stairs  
4, Privet Drive  
Little Whinging,  
Surrey_

Harry thought it was odd that they know the exact cupboard he was in, but figured that it had to be one of Dudley's friends. Not many knew where he lived within the house. He opened the letter and continued reading it. 

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

Harry stopped and stared at it for a moment, and then reread it one more time. Surely this was wrong. Magic was nothing but a poor man's dream, Harry thought. He considered the strange things that happened around him, and the way he could speak to snakes but no one else seemed to be able to. Aunt Petunia surged to the front of his mind and he immediately put down the thought of magic existing. He continued to read. 

_Headmaster Albus Dumbledore  
(Order of Merlin, First class, Grand Sorcerer, Chief Warlock, Supreme Mugwump-_ Harry skipped over the section. There were too many names for him to care for or read. He went to the start. 

_Dear Mr. Potter,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment._

_Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July._

_Yours Sincerely,_

_Minerva McGonagall  
_ _Deputy Headmistress_

Harry frowned before taking a quick look over the list of items. He folded the papers and shoved them into his mattress. Maybe Severus would have an idea of what it was talking about.

Six hours later, and Harry finally had the chance to ask. The snake had shown up at the park of all places, fat and sated with the weight of the small squirrel it had caught. 

_"The ones who understand the world, can they do strange things?"_ Harry asked the snake. The snake had not been too happy to see him, but Harry didn't care much. The snake had inconvenienced him several times in the past. 

_"Yes. They create winds and pull snakes from their homes for battle. It is a great honor for a snake to be able to fight alongside those who understand the world. Now, let me sleep."_ The snake slithered off, and Harry watched him leave, turning when he heard Dudley stomp up to him. Harry really did not want to deal with Dudley. 

"Hey!" But it seemed Dudley wanted to deal with him. Shit. Harry stood up and turned around. "Yes?" He asked, looking at Dudley's shoes. It didn't do well to look the other in the face. Dudley stepped closer, and Harry really didn't need to know that Dudley had not brushed his teeth that morning. Harry doesn't get what he wants too often. 

"Mum said get your lazy arse home, or you get to stay in the shed again." Harry glanced up at that, quickly looking back down again. He had been out late after all. He knew better than to stay out as late as he had. However, he had yet to send out the owl that the letter mentioned. Harry walked slowly behind Dudley, knowing that he would be staying in the shed no matter what that night. If being late didn't work, then he would drop a plate or something. Aunt Petunia didn't allow Vernon to be so violent with the school year getting closer. 

After getting back to the Dursley's, Harry had dropped a teacup of Petunia's, ensuring that he would be kept in the shed at least one to three nights. She might not give him as much food, but it was only fair since he had broken one of her cups. Harry deserved a harsher punishment than a lack of food and the ratty shed that Vernon kept saying he would one day fix. His aunt was the only good person in that household, honestly. 

After being put into the shed for the night, and likely the next day, since Petunia had not specified when he was being let out. Harry had been inside many times throughout his life, though. He knew exact;y where the little holes he could slide through and not be seen was. 

He squirmed out and saw three owls sitting on the tree outside of the Dursley's house. Maybe they were waiting for an answer? Harry waved his hand and caught their attention. One hooted and flew down to him, sticking out a leg. Harry didn't quite understand why the owl did that. Maybe he was supposed to give it a letter? Harry stared a moment before pulling up the Freak abilities that he kept suppressed. It was warm and wild, and Harry angled it at the owl, which exploded in a puff of feathers and ash. Hm. He looked up at the other owls, both looking at him for only a moment before quickly taking off in the sky. Harry couldn't blame them. He didn't want to be blown up either. He crawled back into the shed and pushed the Freak abilities down and left it alone after that. Maybe they would send someone to receive the letter now? 

If not, Harry would simply keep pushing down his Freakishness and continue as he always had. Aunt Petunia would make sure he had it under control. 

**Author's Note:**

> I have decided to try writing on this platform and in general. I've read many stories on here and decided to give it a go, myself. Let me know what you think!


End file.
